


i found my love upon the southern ground

by kay_emm_gee



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Forbidden Love, Ireland, Post-World War II, Religious Conflict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 02:57:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10548878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_emm_gee/pseuds/kay_emm_gee
Summary: Clarke laced their fingers together and watched silently as Bellamy pulled away from her street. It was only a few hours to Dublin, but it felt like it took ten times that just to drive out of her hometown. Her heart was pounding as they passed the last fencepost she recognized, and then that was it. She had left, and she wasn’t going back.Even if her parents came after her, even if Mrs. Blake wouldn’t take them in, Clarke was never coming back here. The small town with its embedded prejudices wasn’t home anymore, because home was now beside her.{ A one-shot of Bellarke in post-WWII Ireland, inspired by Ed Sheeran’sNancy Mulligan}





	

Clarke felt her heart pounding in her chest as she eased the front door of her childhood home closed. The night was a quiet one, as were most in the no-name town thirty miles outside of Belfast. It was a bit eerie to see the street–the one where she had played hopscotch, and ridden her bicycle with the pink basket, and walked home from school with her friends–so deserted, so empty. She thought of the dresser below her bedroom window upstairs, now also empty of her belongings, just like her bed was of her. A shiver began to steal up her back, but she bit her lip as she fought against it.

Cold mist coated the back of her neck as she slid her key out of the lock and into the pocket of her plaid skirt. The leather case with her most precious possessions weighed her down almost as much as her worry, and its handle nearly slipped from her grip as she snuck down the front steps onto the street. Her stomach was in knots, and not even the warm gold glow of the lone streetlamp on the corner could soothe her.

When she spotted the car headlights at the end of the road, however, Clarke broke out in a nervous smile. Her first steps in that direction were quiet, as if she expected her parents to hear her all the way from their dark and silent bedroom. Soon, though, she stopped caring if the click of her saddle shoes against the cracked pavement was too loud. It was with a run that she took the last few steps to the dust-covered black car with the dinged bumper.

Strong arms caught her up as she approached the driver’s side, and Bellamy spun her around. “You’re here,” he murmured as he pulled in her into him tightly.

“Of course I’m here,” Clarke whispered into the familiar linen shirt that was patched in far too many places. When she pulled back, she looked up into dark, bright eyes that were far too apprehensive. “I told you I was ready.”

He quirked a half-smile at her as he brushed some loose curls behind her ear. “Shame on me for doubting,” he said dryly.

And though she did know from his tone–Clarke felt she had memorized everything about him over the past few months, because that’s what thinking about someone all the time got you–that he was teasing, she didn’t laugh. Instead, she cupped his face with her free hand and said, “I’ve never doubted anything less in my life, Bellamy Blake.”

His lips were rough but warm when they came down on hers, and she almost dropped her suitcase because she wanted to keep him so very close. They had miles and miles to go before she would stop looking in the rearview for headlights coming after them, however, so she pulled back before her greediness overwhelmed her. His uneven breath puffed against her own trembling mouth as she whispered, “It’s time to go.”

Bellamy squeezed her hand once, long and hard, before kissing her temple and taking her case. She climbed into the car as he placed it in the backseat. Her fingers dug into the worn leather that her stocking-and-nothing-else-clad thighs had touched last week, and she felt herself flush–not from embarrassment, but with the hazy type of pleasure that came from rosy remembrance.

Bellamy sliding into the driver’s seat startled her from the memories, and she smiled softly at him. “Ready?”

“More than,” he replied. He clasped her hand as he started the engine. Clarke laced their fingers together and watched silently as Bellamy pulled away from her street. It was only a few hours to Dublin, but it felt like it took ten times that just to drive out of her hometown. Her heart was pounding as they passed the last fencepost she recognized, and then that was it. She had left, and she wasn’t going back.

Even if her parents came after her, even if Mrs. Blake wouldn’t take them in, Clarke was never coming back here. The small town with its embedded prejudices wasn’t home anymore, because home was now beside her.

She rested her head on Bellamy’s shoulder as they rumbled through the dark roads that cut across rolling hills and wide fields. Occasionally the moonlight would catch on the pendants hanging from his rearview mirror and draw her eye. The one on the short chain gave off a dull glow, because it was coated in grime and rust. Only half of Jude’s face could be seen, and only in the brightest of sunlight. She had tried to clean it for him on their last trip into the countryside, despite his half-hearted protests. Her efforts hadn’t done much, because under the Belfast dust was French mud and English soot, and under that was years and years of Dublin dirt. That kind of tarnish couldn’t be, and maybe shouldn’t be, washed away, she had discovered.

Besides, Bellamy didn’t touch that one much. Since she had met him–five months ago in the military hospital–he chose the pendant of St. Jerome Emiliani to thumb absently when he was puzzled or frustrated. That was the brighter one hanging up there, swinging on a chain as new as the pendant itself. It was the one he had lost during one of his checkups, and the one she had found, the one that had made her realize from their first conversation how much could stand between them.

Ironic, then, that it was that second, newer one that brought them together, really. She pressed her face into Bellamy’s shoulder and breathed him in, because while he may not pray to the saint of lost causes anymore–not since before the war–maybe she should have started. They both still might need to, because a Belfast girl and a Dublin boy falling in love was a lost cause if Clarke ever knew one.

With a sigh, she turned back to stare at the starlit road stretching in front of them. After lifting their intertwined hands and kissing his knuckles, she reached for the pendant of St Jude. Clarke rubbed it between her thumb and forefinger a few times before letting it go. It swayed with the rocking of the car, and somehow, she swore it glowed just a little brighter than before.

“Stop worrying,” Bellamy chided softly.

She glanced up at him and sniffed. “I’m not worried.”

He kept his eyes on the road but smiled knowingly. “Liar.”

“Well, I’m not worried about the things that matter.”

His shoulders relaxed, and she shook her head in amusement. When she went to snuggle back into his side, though, he caught her eye. There was a question there, she could sense it, so she just waited for it to come tumbling out, as his impatience won out over his reservations nearly every time.

“How would you feel about making a stop before we get to Dublin?”

“For what?”

His pause was long enough to make her sit up. Her skirt pulled as she twisted her legs on the seat to get a better look at him. “For what, Bellamy?”

He gave her a nervous grin and said, “So I can make an honest woman out of you. A friend of my sister’s gave me the name of a parish just outside of Dundalk that would accommodate us on short notice.”

Her jaw dropped, because marriage had been the plan all along, but she was supposed to meet his mother first, and his sister, and acclimate to Dublin and their new life there. That had been the plan–a risky one, but one she was beyond a shadow of a doubt sure of–but as she looked at Bellamy, his messy curls, his scarred face, his hopeful expression, she knew that she too wanted the plan to change, very badly.

Still, she wouldn’t let him know that. “An honest woman, Mr. Blake? What makes you think my honor depends on you?” she asked in feigned outrage.

Apparently he knew her too well, though because his only response was a rueful chuckle. “My mistake, Miss Griffin. I should have said, how about you make an honest man out of me?”

“It’s about time I did that, I suppose,” she volleyed back. Clarke was unable to keep from bursting into a large grin however, which made Bellamy laugh even harder. She let out a soft, excited shout before throwing her arms around his neck. She kissed the crook of it, then up it, until she was hearing him groan in frustration that he couldn’t return the favor.

“You’re going to make us crash,” he admonished once he managed to steal his mouth away from hers.

Clarke wrinkled her nose in displeasure but desisted from distracting him. Instead she slid down to lean against his side. Bellamy slung an arm around her to pull her close, and she slid one of hers around his middle to do the same.

“I love you, Bellamy Blake,” she whispered, heart in her throat.

“And I love you,” he murmured in return. “More than anything.”

She closed her eyes, listening to the engine rumble and Bellamy’s deep, even breaths. As her own breaths slowed to match his, she reached up to trace the thin gold cross dangling at the hollow of her throat. Clarke knew without a doubt that she would be content for the rest of her life to stay here, wrapped up in the man beside her. He was the only salvation she needed, the only one she wanted, and she would make sure that even God himself would be damned if He tried to come between them.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've felt inspired to write bellarke in many months, so i'm pretty excited about this one! if you liked it and feel like dropping me a note, that would be much appreciated :)
> 
> also, i tried to do as much geography/time period research as possible, but i apologize for any mistakes regarding the setting and/or social context. happy to make corrections if anyone has more thorough knowledge of the components here!
> 
> special thanks to [apanoplyofsong](http://archiveofourown.org/users/apanoplyofsong), [museumofflight](http://archiveofourown.org/users/museumofflight) and [ChancellorGriffin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/chancellorgriffin) for their input on patron saints! 
> 
> and finally, as always, thanks for reading <3


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